


and my burden to bear is a love (i can’t carry anymore)

by ClumsyBookworm18



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Death, Depression, Drama, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Ghosts, Grief/Mourning, Haunting, Post-Canon, Post-Lodge Prank Incident (Until Dawn), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2020-11-15 01:43:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20858150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClumsyBookworm18/pseuds/ClumsyBookworm18
Summary: After the events of Blackwood, Josh’s ghost is stuck in limbo. Sam is the only one that can see him (much to her chagrin) and has to put up with his ghostly persistence. Who knew that even in the afterlife he could be so annoying.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So this basically started as a fun drabble that ended up turning into a multichapter angst fest (sorry not sorry) and I finally rounded up the guts to share it here. Plus what better time to post this than now!  
So, uh, enjoy I guess???

She had lost track of time. 

Sam blinked, coming into her surroundings, her eyes adjusting to the soft blue hue basking her room. Long gone were the rays of the sun, now replaced by the twilight glow. 

Her mind had succumbed into that trance that came every time her fingers itched, fiercely working to trace out the images that surfaced in the mirrors of her mind. She didn’t call herself an artist- had never thought that big of herself. But these past months that’s all she seemed to be doing. Drawing. Sketching. Painting. Her room a disarray of filled notebooks and sketches, a mess of canvas and brushes. More reminiscent of an art studio than a bedroom. 

The rough surface of the newsprint paper grazed her stained fingers as she traced them across her sketch, blurring the onyx lines. Trying to diminish the monstrous fangs she had drawn with her charcoal stick, as if her fingers could also diminish the horrifying image that was permanently imbedded in her mind. 

It had been eight months since they went back to Blackwood Pines. Eight long, hellish months of trying to adjust to her new reality. But the terrifying images that plagued her nightmares were still perfectly fresh. As if everything had happened yesterday.

The Blackwood Seven. That’s what people had labeled them, her friends and her. Eight teenagers went in and seven came out. Sam wasn’t a stranger to it though, to the rumor mill that it caused. Of the pointing, the gossip, the chatter.

The _insinuations_. 

Sam didn’t need to hear them to know what people whispered as she passed. The rumors of how the Washingtons casually found themselves childless. Conspiracy theories about what happened to the twins wasn’t really an accident, that they returned the next year to finish the job. Talking about things they _ thought _they knew. Yes, they knew who was. Yes, they’d heard what happened that night at Blackwood. But they didn’t endure a night in a mountain full of flesh eating creatures. Didn’t have to fight to survive until dawn. Didn’t see the things she wished to unsee. 

Still, she can’t say she blames them. Anything was preferable than to believe Wendigos exist. 

But nobody talked about why the Washingtons allowed a bunch of teenagers to return to their mountain after what happened the previous year. Why they allowed their remaining son to go back. How they missed the signs that he _ clearly _ wasn’t alright. Although to be fair, the blame could be shared for the latter. 

She had also missed the signs. 

Letting out a sigh, Sam reached for the rag she kept nearby to wipe the charcoal residue from her hands, her brow furrowing as she looked over the drawing. Trying not to dwell too much on it. 

“Oh, that's wonderfully horrifying,” crooned a voice behind her. Not just any voice though but _ his _ voice. 

Josh.

Sam rolled her eyes, not at all surprised at the compliment. 

She was used to it- hearing him. Yet another damn souvenir from Blackwood- one that she wasn’t sure to think of as a curse or a gift. It’d started a few weeks after the mountain. Simple words at first. A few _ Sammy _ s here and there that had later begun to turn into vague phrases up until they became full blown out clear sentences. The occasional _ You’re too thin _ when she fidgets with the cuffs of her sweaters that are now too big for her, or an _ I hate it when you cry _ when she wakes up sobbing from her nightmares. Sometimes it was the sound of his laugh, low and soft, tickling her ears. 

She’d chalked it up to some kind of symptoms of her PTSD. An expression of her guilt. It’d been an unwelcome surprise at first and had taken her some time to adjust to it. Now she finds it fitting with the gloomy turn that her life had taken. 

Sometimes she even gave into her delusions and answered back. When she was feeling especially nostalgic they would turn into full on conversations, looking for the familiarity of their late night talks. Dare she say it was even comforting at times. 

But there was a small part in her that doubted- that wasn’t sure it was some delusion. Doubt that came roaring when she felt certain… _ things. _ Things she didn’t find an explanation for. Sudden temperature drops, a familiar warmth beside her, the burning sensation of having _ his _ eyes on her...

Sam shook her head. _ You’re just imagining things _ . _ Josh is _ ** _dead_ ** _ , remember? _

Stepping away from the easel, she took a moment to inspect her work. A face stared right back at her, one half with the handsome complexion that belonged to the boy she once knew, the other half contorting into the inhuman features of the monster that lurked in Blackwood Pines. Half man. Half wendigo.

A face that haunted her dreams and nightmares. 

“Not as gruesome as some of your other works but terrifying enough,” she heard him say, his voice closer to her now. Natural reflex had her turning her head to look for someone that logically wouldn't be there- 

Any color left on her already pale face leached away at what she saw. 

Josh was leaning against the wall a few feet behind her, his green eyes studying the drawing of his profile.

There was no haunted look in his eyes. No signs of blood nor any of the scrapes he had the last time she saw him. He looked, well... normal. Real. Healthy. _ Alive _. 

He only stood there, arms crossed and smirking. And that all too amused expression that was just _ Josh _. 

Sam watched in undiluted terror as he sauntered closer to her, gaze still fixed on her sketch. He traced a hand over the protruding fangs as she had done moments before, laughing under his breath. “I’m flattered that you drew me at all.” 

_ This isn’t real, this isn’t real, this isn’t real _ she thought frantically, still gaping at him.

Finally, he turned to look at her, noticing the fear and shock that was clearly written across her face. Josh frowned. “Jeez you look like you’ve seen a ghost.” 

It was official. She had finally gone off her fucking rocker. 

Those green eyes snapped to hers, clear and unflinching, and Sam’s heart stuttered, making her let out a shaky breath. Josh’s eyes widened as he realized that she wasn’t looking _ through _ him but _ at _ him. 

“Can you see me?” he asked, peering closer, his movements weary, like he didn’t quite believe it himself. 

Sam didn’t answer, only stared and stared at him. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t think over the chaos in her head, her blood pounding loudly in her ears. It was too much. He was too close.

He lifted a hand, moving it side to side, noting how her eyes followed the movement. Josh opened his mouth to say what, she didn’t know, when a sudden knock reverberated through her bedroom door, followed by her mom’s voice telling her that dinner was ready. Sam jumped, tearing her eyes away from him to look at the door. 

When she looked back he was gone. 

“Josh?” she whispered into the empty room.

No response. Nothing. Nada. No trace that the ghost of her best friend’s brother was just here, standing in front of her as if he were still alive. 

The doubt looming beneath her skin roiled, folding onto itself, its layers growing. She clamped it down. 

Maybe it was just a nostalgic wave that conjured him up. After all she had just been sketching him, thinking of him. Her lack of sleep wasn’t probably helping. 

Sam waited until her heartbeat steadied and her breathing was stable. When she was able to think clearly again, she walked out of her room. Closing the door without looking back.


	2. Voices Carry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!! So I had planned to upload this days ago but this past week has been hectic AF! I did and undid a lot of stuff for this chapter and well, I'm not completely satisfied but this is what ended resonating with me. It's a bit short but hopefully they'll start getting longer overtime. 
> 
> Enjoy :)

Josh watches.

Whoever said death was peaceful was full of shit.

For him, death was cold. It was lonely. It was boring as _ fuck _.

After the monster- _ Hannah _\- squashed his head, Josh didn’t immediately realize he was dead. The first few days had been the worse. It took him awhile to notice he wasn’t hallucinating. That his friends had made it out of the mountain but he didn’t. And that he never would. Not alive at least. 

Needless to say, Josh didn’t like to dwell on his current circumstances. 

He had tried to communicate with the others. Had wanted to make them understand that he was still here. That he wasn’t really gone. But nothing worked. 

Josh refuses to believe he sucks at being a poltergeist. Completely unacceptable. Joshua Washington, son of horror mogul Bob Washington, did not suck at scaring the shit out of people. If anything, his prank on Blackwood proved exactly that. Even if things didn't turn out the way he wanted at the end. 

Finally, he has the inherent ability to scare the shit out of people that comes with the territory of being a ghost and these assholes don’t even let him have a go at it. Even Chris didn’t react when Josh tumbled over a few stuff at his place. The dude survived a night in a mountain full of supernatural creatures and _ still _ doesn’t believe in ghosts. His friends- if he can still call them that- were the worst at getting haunted. That was the only explanation.

She was an exception.

Josh watched as Sam roamed around in her room, preparing for the day ahead of her. She moved slower now, her movements heavier, as if there were a weight pressing in on her. That energetic edge she had about her gone. 

Sam was the only one that actually interacted with him. Even if she thought he was a hallucination and ignored him most of the time, it still didn’t change the fact that she could hear him, that she talked back to him, and as recent events showed...

_ She saw me. _

Josh was still processing it, trying to figure out how the fuck he did it. He was still learning what he could do, trying to understand how to manipulate his surroundings. He knew the basics, of course. It was the things that took more… _ concentration _, to say the least, that were giving him trouble. Like a child who has already mastered their gross motor skills but was still honing their fine ones. But if Sam saw him then Josh must be doing something right. 

He still couldn't believe it, after all these months…. He remembered the shock and grief on her face, the panic creeping into her eyes. It wasn’t exactly the reaction he was aiming for- at least not from _ her _\- but it was better than nothing. 

Josh goes to stand behind her as Sam plops down in front of the dresser mirror, both of them looking at her reflection. Her pale face stares back at herself, and unknowingly at him, her hazel eyes bright but hollow above her sharp cheekbones. Her lips thinned as she tried, and failed, to gather her hair into a bun, the blonde strands slipping between her fingers. It had been months since _ The Big Chop _, as he likes to call it, but it was still too short, barely beneath her chin now. 

He recalled the feel of his thumb brushing against the nape of her neck, the way her long waves tumbled down her naked back. How his fingers threaded through the soft tresses, savoring those rare moments Sam decided to let her hair down. Both literally and figuratively.

Again Sam tried to amass her hair, letting out a sigh when the strands fell back to her face.

Josh thought it suited her.

Giving up the fight with her hair, Sam strode over to her armoire, yanking open the doors, her hands pushing and pulling the clothes as she searched. Josh tried not to react as she walked right through him. It still freaked him out a bit when people do that. 

It was frustrating. Watching as she wasted away. Not able to do anything about it. Reduced to a useless presence, a mere bystander watching from the sidelines, useless to help her like he couldn’t help his sisters.

So Josh being Josh did what he was best at: run his mouth off. 

“Going out today, are we?” he teased as Sam kept aggressively rifling through the clothes, pretending she couldn’t hear him. “I wonder what could be so important that put moping around in your sweatpants on hold.”

Sam didn’t answer him but Josh already knew. He’d seen the text Emily sent her last night, asking Sam to meet her for brunch this morning. Good. She needed to get out and distract herself. As delightful as those creepy paintings of hers were, Josh was bored of watching her being cooped up all day. 

Besides, he enjoyed watching her squirm when he chattered her ear off in front of other people, trying to keep her features on line and her scowling to a minimum everytime he says something to deliberately provoking. It takes a lot to get on Sam’s nerves, oh but once he does, it’s so worth it. Just because he’s dead doesn’t mean he can’t have fun.

Sam clenched her jaw but still didn’t acknowledge him, her search becoming more vicious. Every once in awhile she’d pull something out, only to frown at it and put it back in. 

Josh smirked, peering over her shoulder. “Look at you, actually making an effort to look like a lady.”

Sam abruptly stopped her ransacking. Slowly, she pulled a dark blue sweater- his sweater. The one he left the last time he stayed over. He’d left that morning on a haste, eager to get back to Blackwood, his plan already in motion. 

He had been a fool.

Her hand brushed against the soft fabric of its sleeve, the touch feather light. Her other hand glided down her necklace, finding purchase in the key resting atop her breastbone. Blinking furiously, she swept it aside just as brusquely as when she stopped, before finally pulling out a long sleeved dress and slipping it on. 

He found it fascinating how Sam could put moments like this aside as if nothing happened, yet still clung to what happened in the mountain. Letting it consume her. It had been over half a year now, and she was still a ghost. 

The irony wasn’t lost on him.

The fabric of her dress slid over her shoulder as she bent over to tug on her ankle boots, her collarbones jutting over the loose collar. She was so thin. So damn thin. Had she noticed how much weight she’d lost? 

Does she even care? 

Sam kept going on her gloomy way, oblivious to his worrying. When she was already halfway down the hallway she paused, half turning, those hazel eyes searching. 

Josh crossed the space between them. His gaze raked over her face, looking for some kind of recognition, a sign.

_ Look at me _ . He begged silently at her. _ I’m right here. _ ** _Look_ ** _ at me. _

Sam shivered. Her eyes flickered over to where he was standing, and for a moment, just for a moment, something like hope dared to flare in his chest.

He wanted her to know. He wanted her to see. He was here. He never left. 

Just as fast as it happened, her gaze slid right over him, unseeing. 

The feeling in his chest sunk, instantly swept by a spark of frustration. 

The lights flickered. Once. Twice.

“Freaky...” Sam whispered to herself. She opened the door, throwing another look over her shoulder before walking out. 

Josh wasn’t going to stand on the sidelines anymore. 

***

She couldn’t sleep. 

It was going to be one of those nights, it seemed. Full of tossing and turning, sleep failing to come to her as easily as it did before. The frustrating thing was that she was actually tired- so _ tired _. Had spent all day fighting the immense heaviness that now lived inside her. But as soon as her head hit the pillow…

Sam sighed sharply, pushing the covers away. A lick of cold went down her spine, sliding along her bones. She ignored the way it made her skin prickle. At the implication of _ why, _ exactly, she was so fidgety. 

It had been a few weeks since the Josh incident, or whatever it had been. She hasn’t told anyone about it, nor she planned to. Hell, nobody even knew that she could hear Josh talking to her in the first place. Not her mom. _ Definitely _ not her friends. They already worried enough.

For something she had come to consider as a minor blip, Sam had been going around the matter a lot. There were a bunch of plausible explanations for why she’d seen him. Stress. Lack of sleep. Maybe she had smelled a bit too many paints that day. Maybe she had a brain tumor. Or maybe-

_ You’re overthinking things _.

Sitting up and turning on the lamp by her bed, Sam grabbed the diary stowed away on her bedside table for times like this, already full of entries and drawings that typically wouldn’t be in a diary of a girl her age. 

So what if Sam saw him- or _ thought _ she did. She hears his voice in her head all the time, which lately had been more insufferable than usual. She was making a big deal out of nothing. 

And yet the feeling of being watched never went away.

_ Wait, why am I still racking my brain over this? And when the hell did it get so cold in here? _

As if summoned by her thoughts, a deep voice drawled, “And here I thought you’d be catching up on some z’s right now.”

Ah, there he was. The bane of her existence.

“Can’t sleep?” 

“Go away, Joshua,” she said, not really in the mood to deal with this bullshit tonight. 

He chuckled, the sound low and soft. “_ Joshua _? You must be really pissed.” 

“Am I? Gee I hadn’t noticed.” 

“So grumpy tonight, Sammy.”

Sam scowled and kept scrawling stubbornly on her diary. Maybe if she ignores him, he’ll go away. 

Another chuckle. “Can you at least tell me what’s got your panties in a twist?”

She squeezed her eyes shut. _ Not real _.

“Saaaaam,” he went on. 

Silence.

“_ Sammy _.”

Sam still didn’t answer.

There was no quip from him this time, and Sam almost sighed in relief but kept her mouth shut instead, trying to bask in the seconds of peace that, somehow, she knew wouldn’t last very long. 

She startled at the caress of something on her ankle, letting out a curse as her back slammed with the headboard. 

“I figured that would get you to stop ignoring me.”

She lifted her eyes, immediately regretting her decision as they zeroed in on the source of her distress.

Sprawled on the foot of her bed was Josh, head propped up by a hand and smirking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally decided to dip my toes into the vast ocean that is Josh Washington and he is such a fun character to write! I hope I did him justice. Thanks for reading!


	3. Miss me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam thinks she's crazy and Josh is... Josh.

She shouldn’t have been surprised. Not when it came to Josh. And yet she couldn’t believe it. When people die, they tend to stay dead. These sorts of things didn’t happen. People did not see their dead friends. 

But there he was. 

Draped over her bed was Joshua Washington, a person who was officially declared  _ dead _ (if the headless body was any indication), his black clothes a stark contrast with her ivory duvet. 

She didn’t know- couldn’t even begin to fathom what to say or do other than gawk at him. The pounding in her heart too distracting, along with some other emotion she didn’t want to make out. 

Josh angled his head, a half smile playing on his lips. “Dreadful etiquette, I apologize.”

He looked anything but sorry. 

“You’re here,” Sam heard herself say, far way, the words somehow coming out resigned and shocked- not processing she had spoken at all. She wasn’t entirely sure she was breathing either. 

“Hello to you too, Sammy.” 

She blinked. Then blinked once more. Nope, he was still there. 

_ What. The. Hell. _

Josh raised an eyebrow. “Most people would consider staring rude, ya kn-”

Without thinking, she hurled at him the first thing at her reach. Which turned out to be her diary. 

Josh let out a curse, ducking in vain as it flew through him. Both of them watched as it landed with a muffled  _ thump _ on the plush carpet. 

He turned to look at her, muttering, “Pacifist my ass.” Though his face was serious, something like amusement glinted in his eyes. “Is this going to be a thing now? You throwing something at me every time I scare you?”

_ No no no no no.  _ This wasn’t happening. She must’ve fallen asleep and was dreaming right now. She was having some kind of fever dream. Yup. That was totally it. There absolutely wasn’t a dead person sitting on the foot of her bed. Nope. 

Looking to avoid the presence in front of her, Sam threw the covers off her and got up, walking over to where her diary had landed. As she bent to pick it up, out of the corner of her eye she saw Josh smoothly sit up, bracing his hands on his thighs, watching her. Always watching her. Like he used to do. 

A shiver went through her. It was just the cold. Nothing else. 

_ That's what happens when you leave the comfort of your blanket burrito to step into a freezing room. _

Sam closed her eyes and took a single deep breath, trying not to let the eeriness of it rattle her (keyword being _ trying _ ), before turning to face him. “You’re not real.”

Josh snorted. “Oh, I’m real alright,” he said, and- yep, that was definitely amusement glittering in those eyes. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for one of you fuckers to finally see me?” 

“No,” she refuted, shaking her head. “This is just my subconscious showing me what I want to see. Or  _ don’t _ , more specifically.” 

He gave her a lazy grin that once would’ve made her heart flutter. “I’m flattered Sammy. Really. But no imaginary doppelganger of mine can have my wit and charm-”

“And can’t be as aggravating as you,” she said dryly. “You know what? I’m actually inclined to believe this is all true. You haven’t been here five minutes and you’re already getting on my nerves.”

Josh put a hand to his chest. “Aw Sammy, you wound me. After all those late night talks we had together.” 

She glared at him. 

Josh stalked towards her, stopping less than a foot away, and she could’ve sworn a whisper of warmth grazed her skin. “What? Did you actually think you were crazy talking to a voice inside your head?” He gave her a knowing smirk. “Oh honey, you’re not delusional,  _ trust me _ .”

Flashes of them in the mines raced through her mind, clamping down on her heart. Josh muttering to himself. Mike hitting him. Sam asking for the cable car key. Josh giving it to her. Their last conversation (she’d lost count of how many times she’s replayed it in her mind). The last time she saw him, alive and bleeding. 

She didn’t even say goodbye.

Fiercely shoving the memories away, Sam refrained from curling her fingers around the chain that rested around her neck, curling them into fists instead. She didn’t miss how his eyes flickered down to her hands as if he knew, but didn’t comment on it.

Wise move.

“How?” She demanded. “You’re supposed to be dead.”

He shrugged. “Never said I wasn’t.” 

Her blood chilled at his words- ignoring the doubt churning beneath her skin, trying to untangle the certainty of what she’d known all along but kept pushing into the back of her mind, like every irrational thought. She took a few steps back, putting some much needed space between them. For her sake.

“You mean to tell me... that the voice I’ve been hearing all this time was a vestige of you and not my imagination,” she said, not entirely a question.

Josh smirked. “What do you think?”

“So all those terrible wisecracks and irritating quips…  _ that was you _ ?”

“I’m pretty sure you mispronounced the word genius.”

A short, incredulous laugh escaped her. “This is insane. I’m fucking insane.”

“No, you’re not,” Josh said flatly.

“I have to be, otherwise I’m talking to a ghost.” Which, as far as she was concerned, were only supposed to haunt graveyards and old houses, not tired twenty year olds. 

He lifted a hand as if he were going to touch her but stopped when Sam yielded a step. Josh’s mouth tightened, hurt flickering in his eyes. “Sam, listen to me. I’m real. This is happening.”

“You can’t be here,” she insisted. “You can’t.” 

“Yet here I am. Standing right in front of you. Talking to you,” he said, crossing his arms. “You know it. You can feel it. You have for a while. Admit it.”

“You can be a brain tumor, for all I know,” she snapped, making way to get away from him. 

Josh’s moved swiftly, snarling softly and blocking her path. “You weren’t this upset when I was a faceless voice ‘inside your head’ but now _ I’m a problem _ ?” 

Sam ignored him, stepping around him and walking away. 

Josh didn’t let her get far, immediately materializing in front of her. “Is it that hard for you to even look at me?”

This time she didn’t even bother trying to pass by him, but strode right through him instead which seemed to piss him off the whole more. She wasn’t going to make this easy for him. 

Sam jolted at the feel of something cold sliding over her neck. She whirled to him, a hand rising to the back of her neck. “Stop that!” 

“Then stop being so stubborn,” he said simply, any leftover amusement fading from his face. 

She debated on throwing the diary to his face again, but knowing her luck, the ruckus it would cause wouldn’t be worth it and she’d probably end up waking her mother. And Sam really wasn’t in the mood to explain why she was up at two in the morning arguing like a lunatic with a ghost- hallucination-  _ fuck _ . Jury’s still out. “What do you want from me?”

Josh crossed his arms. “What I  _ want _ is for you to stop freaking out and  _ talk _ to me.”

“ _ How  _ can you expect me to be calm about this,” she hissed, motioning a hand in his direction. 

“Considering the  _ situation _ we were in the last time we saw each other, Samantha, you could at least look happy to see me.”

Sam stiffened. The last thing she needed was a reminder of what happened down at the mines. “I don’t want you here.” 

“Tough shit.” he snapped, coming closer, making it harder to ignore the warmth seeping off from him. “You think I enjoy watching you wallow around everyday, mourning my sisters? The past?” The  _ Me? _ went unspoken between them but the look in her eyes told him she heard it altogether. “Fading away, day after day, watching as your grief and despair eat you alive.  _ Literally _ .” 

Sam didn’t answer him but if he wasn’t already dead, she would’ve killed him with the glare she sent his way. 

“Whether you hate me or love me, you’re stuck with me,” Josh went on, not balking from that hazel gaze. His eyes were clearer now, more focused. “But I’m also stuck with you. So you see, kind of a lose-lose situation.” 

She watched him for a heartbeat longer before asking, “So what? I’m supposed to be ecstatic you’re here to make my life a living hell? Haunt me for the rest of my miserable days?”

His face darkened. “Is that what you think?”

“Wouldn’t surprise me given all your yapping.” 

“You didn’t seem to mind during our nightly tête-à-têtes.” 

“Prick.” 

Josh let out a wry, low laugh, looking her over. “As for whatever reason you’re seeing me…” he trailed off, bringing a hand up to his jaw. “Well, it makes sense, of course, since you have been the only one that’s been talking back to me- that could hear me in the first place.” A corner of his mouth lifted. “We had a…” 

_ Connection. _

Sam scoffed. 

“Right,” she said, drawing the word out. 

She was definitely sleep deprived. 

Josh watched her walk over to her bed, furiously stuffing some pillows under her arms. He raised an eyebrow. “...What are you doing?”

“Going over to my mom’s room,” she said, not looking at him, “I need to think, and you’re obviously not gonna leave anytime soon...”

He leans against the wall, frowning. “What makes you think I won’t follow you?”

“You won’t,” Sam says, and almost laughs at the sureness of her tone. If tonight has taught her anything, is that she doesn’t know jack-shit. She could already feel a headache forming.

What a mess. 

Once she’s in front of her mom’s door, she lets out a shuddering breath, looking back to make sure there was no other presence but her own. Her heartbeat slows when her eyes find nothing.

Careful not to wake her mom, Sam climbs into the fluffy bed, the sheets warm and welcoming. As she drifts off, she hears his voice like a whisper in the wind,

“ _ Night Sammy. _ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Josh just doesn't know when to shut up, does he?


	4. War of Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is hell bent on getting answers but when has Josh made anything easy?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of arguing in this chapter. Enjoy :)

The blinding sunlight entering through the window was what awoke her. She wondered for a moment why her bed felt differently or why she wasn’t greeted by the faint smell of paints and art that would normally surround her room. Her confusion was short lived as last night memories came to surface, accompanied by a pounding headache. 

Sam let out a groan, pulling the pillow over her face. So it hadn’t been a dream. 

Damn.

Josh was dead. Of that she was absolutely sure. Mike saw him die and had given her the explicit details of what went down at the mines after she’d left them, making her regret even asking. Yet somehow… he was here. Had never actually left apparently. A ghost.

Sam wasn’t stupid. She may not be an avid fan of the supernatural- never had been- but she didn’t blatantly dismiss it either. Not after Blackwood. Not after what she had witnessed. Creatures made out of legends and scary stories that were very much real and very lethal. So the idea of him being here didn’t seem so far-fetched, all things considering.

And she’d knew it- had known it for a while now as much as she hated to admit it. Had refused to believe what was right in front of her. Dismissed what had been obvious because it was so much easier when she should’ve known better than that. 

Beginning to see that the relentless headache wasn’t going to let her go back to sleep anytime soon, she pulled herself up, blinking at the unrelenting morning light. The empty space next to beside her indicated that her mother had already left for work and a quick glance at the clock told her she had slept in but it was still too early for her shift at the yoga studio. After dropping out, Sam had started picking up some shifts as a yoga instructor to avoid being a complete dead weight around the house. As depressed as she might be, she couldn’t allow herself to just sit in her room to mope and weep and sleep… well, not all of the time anyways. 

She takes her time getting out of bed and makes her way to the bathroom. No signs of jabbering or impish laughter or anything that might indicate Josh’s ghostly presence. 

Yet. 

She wastes no time stripping her clothes off and hopping into the shower. She was tempted to linger under the scalding heat of the water spray- and she would’ve had- if it hadn’t been for the impromptu temperature drop that turned her hot shower into a cold one. 

It was good while it lasted.

With a muttered curse, Sam turns off the water and puts on her bathrobe. As good as it had been, the hot shower hadn’t helped with the throbbing headache. She starts impatiently rifling through the medicine cabinet like a junkie when a lick of cold prickles the back of her neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps across her skin. 

Sam breathes out a sharp sigh, calmly closing the medicine cabinet. This time anticipating it, she doesn’t jump when she spots a familiar silhouette in the mirror gazing back at her. 

Leaning against the threshold was Josh, insufferable smirk perfectly placed on his face.

Her heart skittered. The sight of Josh was freaking her out a little bit now that she was convinced that he was in fact here, a ghost. There was still a chance he could still be a hallucination, a sign that her mind had finally broken. But thinking that didn’t seemed... right. It scared her.

What scared her even more was that she didn’t want to look away. 

Ugh. It was too early for this bullshit. 

“Freezing my ass off in the shower wasn’t how I envisioned my morning,” she said by way of greeting.

“Someone’s in a lovely mood today.” His smirk grew, and Sam didn’t let anything show on her face as those vibrant green eyes looked her up and down. “You look like shit.”

Sam answered him with a vulgar gesture, walking past him without so much of a glance his way. 

Josh laughed, sauntering behind her. “Nothing to throw at me this time?” 

“Funny. I don’t remember you being so chipper in the morning.”

“I don’t remember you being such a sourpuss. And yet.” 

“Still a prick though. Not surprising,” she snipped, settling into their banter, searching for some familiar ground. It wasn’t that things were any different when he was just a voice, but now, knowing that Josh was here… it changed everything. 

Just as she reached her bedroom, Josh materializes in front of her. He clicked his tongue. “You shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, Sammy.” He lowered his face close to hers, his warmth a whisper against her skin. “It’s not nice.”

“If it bothers you so much, go haunt someone else then,” she crooned, not backing away.

“I can’t do that.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Sam countered. 

His answering smile told her enough. Arrogant bastard. 

“That’s what I thought.” She brushed past him, somehow managing to keep her steps steady, trying to appear like she wasn’t running away from him. 

Sam ignores him as she searches her wardrobe but could feel his gaze burning on her back. She paused, looking over her shoulder to find him standing in the doorway.

“Ex_ cuse _ you,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “A little bit of privacy here?”

Josh shrugged, not moving. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Heat spread along her cheeks and neck, from both anger and embarrassment. Sam doesn’t deign to reply. Instead, she slams the door to his face. 

“You know I can just walk right through, right?” he taunts from behind the door.

She was very well aware of that.

After hastily throwing on some clothes, Sam sat at the vanity. She passes a quick brush through her damp hair and dabs concealer under her eyes before inspecting herself in the mirror. There. Now she resembles a normal person. Or at least gives off the impression that she still has her wits together, even if they’re still hanging by a thread. A very thin one. 

Sam was tired of everybody asking how she was doing. 

She was _ fine _. Really. 

A bang at her door. “You done?”

Although she could do without the poltergeist.

***

“Don’t ghosts have better things to do?” Sam said, setting her cup of tea down on the kitchen table.

They were huddled on the kitchen table, Sam trying grill him for the past twenty minutes. She’d been set on getting an explanation- answers for the many questions swarming inside her head. 

Getting a serious answer from him was another story. 

“Probably.” Josh leaned back into his chair across from her like it was the most normal thing in the world. “But I wouldn’t want to deprive you of my company.”

Sam scoffed, popping a piece of fruit into her mouth. “Pester me, you mean.” 

His lips twisted into a bitter smile. “Hey if it were up to me I would be having a joyride in the eternal siesta,” he said, shaking his head. Then muttered, “Just to buy me some damned peace.” 

She didn’t have anything to say to that.

Josh arched a dark brow. “You seem to be taking this pretty well, considering your reaction last night.” A sly smile. “Among other things.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Uh, your inherent fear of ghosts.” 

“I think we can agree that after everything that happened on _ your _ mountain, my fear of ghosts would be the least of my issues.”

Josh shrugged. “Fair enough.”

Sam takes another sip of tea. It was rattling to see him like this, the insufferable familiarity in which he acted, like this was all run of the mill for him. Like he wasn’t dead. She almost believed too, her hands itching to reach out and touch him. 

Sam gripped the mug harder. She tried to focus on eating the fruit on her plate to avoid looking at him. 

She could feel his gaze fixed on her, following her every movement. “You’ve lost weight.” 

“I don’t see why you’re so surprised about it,” Sam said, her tone coming out a bit more sharply than she intended. “Since apparently you’ve been snooping on me all this time.” 

He put a dramatic hand to his chest. “Me? Snooping? _ Never _.”

“Says the biggest busybody I‘ve ever met.”

“Can you blame _ me _? Being a ghost isn’t as fun as the movies make it out to be.”

_ It is so not a ghost thing _. Her eyes narrowed. “How is it that you’re here and not… the Great Beyond or wherever it is that dead people go?”

“I don’t know,” Josh said simply, giving her a one shoulder shrug. He didn’t elaborate.

“That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

“What_ else _is there to say? My head got crushed. I woke up. Found you guys looking like you just came out of a horror movie. Noone would see me or hear me or talk to me. Next thing I know, I’m dead, and everybody else survived except for me because I never made it out of those damn mines.” Josh’s smile was cold. “Good enough answer for you?”

No. Not at all.

Sam’s mouth was dry as she asked, “Can you see them?” 

Josh knew who she meant. “No.” 

Abrupt. Sharp. Final. 

“Are there any other ghosts with you?”

“Just me.” His voice was rough. Bitter.

Sam studied him warily. “What is it that you’re not telling me?” 

He leaned back in his chair, his closed up expression instantly replaced by a lazy grin that didn’t meet his eyes. One of his favorite masks. “So many questions for someone who supposedly doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

Fine- it was fine. It wasn’t as if she could count on him telling her the truth anyways. She’d learned that the hard way. “Like you said last night, I’m stuck with you. So excuse me for trying to understand what I’ll have to deal with.” 

“Can you let me know once you do? Cause I’ve been trying to figure it out myself for the past, oh I don’t know, eight months.” 

“You’re a real bastard, you know that?”

A roguish grin. 

_ Prick. Prick. Prick. Prick _ . _ Prick. _ “Can you stop being so difficult and help me out here?” Sam hissed.

“I could be worse.”

Oh, she was sure. “Why me? Why not Chris or Ash?” Sam lifted a brow. “I’ve never even touched a spirit board.”

Josh rolled his eyes, letting his head fall back. “For the hundredth time, _ I don’t know _ . Don’t ask me how or why or even _ what _. I. Don’t. Know.” He had the nerve to sound like he was irritated with her.

“Do you actually know anything at all?”

“Cut me some slack. I didn’t exactly get a ‘Handbook for the Recently Deceased’.”

Sam studied him for a long moment in silence. “I’m wasting my time,” she muttered to herself. She shook her head. “How can I trust you’re telling me the truth- after everything? All the secrets, the lies, your spiteful_ prank _-”

“You’re still going on about that?” Josh interjected, exasperated. “I thought we were past what happened on Blackwood.” 

“Oh don’t get me started on what you did to me in Blackwood,” Sam snapped.

Josh froze, the smug smile slipping from his face.

Sam furiously gets up and throws her dishes in the sink. “I’ve had enough of you for one day. I have to go but please feel free to not be here when I come back.” 

“We’ll have to talk about this sooner or later.”

“No, we won’t,” she said over her shoulder as she walked away.

“No probs. Let’s ignore it and sweep it under the rug, like everything else,” he called after her.

The sound of the door slam echoed through the house.

***

He was there when she got home. 

And the next day. 

And the next. 

Before she knew it, a week had already passed, almost in blur. Sam had found herself slowly- and reluctantly- acclimating to this new _ occurence _ in her life.

In a way, it was hard not to, since everything about him reminded her of _ before _\- of a part of her she’d lost in the mines, that had never returned with her from Blackwood. She was still deciding if it was comforting or painful. Perhaps both. It was frustrating for sure, his uncanny ability to unsettle her, how he could bring out feelings she’d managed to keep locked down.

Today she found herself perched on top her rickety stool staring at the blank canvas, her lips pursed in contemplation. 

Bright sunlight pours in the room bringing in some warmth, and the perfect natural light for painting. Her phone was hooked to the small stereo in the corner, her classical music playlist playing softly from the speakers. 

Still staring. 

“If you’re having a hard time looking for inspiration, ” Josh drawled from whereever he was on the couch, and Sam braced herself for the stupid remark he was surely going to make. “You could always paint me. I’d make an _ excellent _ nude model.” 

Sam folded her lips, thankful that her back was to him so he couldn’t see the expression on her face. 

Putting the paintbrush between her teeth, she pushed the blonde strands back with a headband, not wanting to get paint in her hair. If it could just _ grow already _ so she could tie it up into a bun and keep walking.

She takes out the black and white tubes of paint, not in the mood to use colors- she hadn't been in a long time. A few heartbeats pass before she starts adding a considerable amount of black to the palette and brushing a first few hesitant strokes onto the canvas. She grabs the white tube, adding white paint on the palette and mixes it with some black to form gray. She doesn’t know what she’s going to paint yet, merely allows her feelings to take over and guide every stroke. Every movement of her brush turning bolder, until something finally starts to emerge, to take form. 

Sometime after she starts Josh manages to fall uncharacteristically silent, but she feels his gaze burn through her as she paints. As she pours the darkness that lurks inside her heart onto the canvas. Sam didn’t know how many minutes, if not hours, passed when she finally lowered the brush, letting it dangle between her legs as she surveyed her creation. She frowned. 

While it oozed sharpness and fear, the same type of eeriness that was present in all of her paintings, there was just something... different about it- felt wrong somehow. 

“Beautiful,” Josh said, peering over her shoulder. Usually, she never lets anyone see her painting but seeing how Josh was _ Josh _, she didn’t have a choice on the matter. “Depressing as hell but beautiful.”

“Thank you” she said flatly, not looking away from what she’d painted. 

Josh barked a laugh. “_ Thank you _ ? Whatever happened to ‘ _ I didn’t ask for your opinion, Joshua, _ ’ or my timeless favorite ‘ _ Shut up, Josh. _’?” He clicked his tongue. “What a let down.”

Her hands curled shut. He could hear himself talk all day for all Sam cared, but she’s not going to take the bait. She isn’t.

“Tell me, Sammy,” he said. “Why is it that you haven’t told anyone about me?”

Why would she? She was enough of a wreck as it was, and she didn’t need the others prying anymore than they already did. 

“You’re not gonna talk? Fine, I’ll answer for you. You’re in denial.”

Sam stood up so fast, the stool almost fell behind her. “I’m not in denial.”

“_ No _? Then why are you wearing this?” Just as he said the words, her necklace levitated from where she keeps it hidden underneath her shirt. “After all, it’s just a stupid key. A useless knickknack. Isn’t this a reminder of everything that happened that night?”

“It’s none of your business,” she hissed, stuffing her necklace back under the collar of her shirt.

“Sorry, I forgot is better to bury your feelings and pretend that everything’s fine. Because that’s what things are. Right Sammy? They’re _ fine _.”

“Yes. And they would be even better if you weren’t here.”

“Liar.” He stalked closer, a faint smile on his lips that was anything but amused. “Did you even tell the others what I did to you in the lodge?”

Why was he bringing _ that _ up? “I don’t want to talk about it. Not with them. Much less with _ you _.” 

“Right because it’s so much easier to act like nothing happened and that you’re holding yourself together-” 

“I’m fine.” The words come out so fast they only gave weight to his argument.

“Doesn’t look like that to me,” Josh retorted.

“What the hell does it even matter to you?”

He said quietly, “More than you think.”

And then he leaves. The jerk just vanishes.

Sam stares at the spot he was just standing, then at the painting. It no longer feels wrong. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if Sam seems a bit ooc but I like to think she ended up turning into a bit of a cynic after what she went through in Blackwood.


	5. Bottled Up Tight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's indifference has everyone concerned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writer's block sucks.
> 
> Also I don't know how many times I can say fuck for the story to stop being T but I upped the rating just in case :P

The autumn chill chased Sam down the neighborhood streets. Despite the cold, the muscles of her legs burned with every movement she made. She hadn’t even jogged a whole mile and she was already tired. Sure, she hadn’t exactly been keeping up with the fit lifestyle she had _ before, _ but how had Sam let herself become so out of shape? So weakened? 

She breathed in the cold air, letting it fill her lungs. 

Milky eyes on her. Pale creatures with long limbs. Monstrous shrieks.

Her pace quickened. 

_ You’re alive. You made it out. You _ ** _survived_ ** _ . _

Running had been what saved her life that night. She didn’t know why she had stopped doing it in the first place. 

“Sam!” Someone called from behind her. “Sam, wait!” 

She slowed her run down to a slow walk and saw Chris running towards her. Or trying to. And here she was, thinking she was the one out of shape.

He stopped in front of her, lifting a hand as a sign for her to wait and leaned over his knees to catch his breath. Finally, he wheezed, “What are you, training for a marathon?”

“I wasn’t even going that fast.”

“If you say so,” he said, hands on his hips as he still tried to catch his breath. 

Sam had a feeling he wasn’t here to talk about her running habits. “What do you want, Chris?”

“Why have you been ignoring everybody’s calls?”

“I’ve been busy.” _ Busy trying to understand why the ghost of your best friend is haunting me. _

“Sam,” he started, giving her a look of disbelief. “I was friends with the biggest bullshitter I’ve ever known so if you want to lie to me, you’re gonna have to try a lot harder than that.” 

“Fine,” she snapped. “How about ‘I just want to be alone and not have any of you breathing down my neck.’ Is that believable enough for you?”

“We just want to make sure you’re alright.”

“As you can see,” Sam said in a dry tone, doing a quick gesture at herself with a hand. “I’m clearly fine.”

Chris muttered, “Yeah, _ clearly _.”

“I’m not getting into this right now.” Sam scoffed, turning away to continue her jog.

“You know you can’t outrun your problems,” Chris yelled after her. 

“I can certainly try,” Sam said over her shoulder.

***

The sound of her phone vibrating on breaks Sam from her reverie. The name _ Mike _ flashes on the screen for a few moments before it goes black again. She lets out an irritated sigh, closing her sketchbook and picks up her phone to scroll down her notifications. 

> _ where have u been? _
> 
> _ CALL ME _
> 
> _ Are you ok? _
> 
> _ If you’re still alive, give me a call. _

Her cell started buzzing in her hand again, this time Jess calling her. Sam waited until it stopped.

She’d turned the _ Do not disturb _ setting on to avoid the merciless buzzing that had been going on in the last week but the silence on her end only seemed to add more fuel to the fire as the aggressive flurry of texts have now turned into persistent phone calls. She didn’t want to imagine the group chat, which she had muted long ago. 

Sam wasn’t stupid. For the last couple of months they had been taking shifts to check up on her, visiting her, taking her out.

Waiting for her to break. 

But she’d caught up pretty quickly on what they’ve been doing. She’d gained six unwanted babysitters and hated it. There was no way she was going to allow them to turn her into their charity case. 

Her friends meant well but the incessant calls and texts were getting out of hand. Sam debates sitting on her cell as it buzzes for what it felt like the hundredth time that night. She grounds her teeth, turning it off without bothering to check who was calling, and drops it back beside her on the window seat. 

Can’t they take a hint that she wants to be left alone? What was the sudden urge that had everyone wanting to get in touch with her? Why now when she was trying to figure out this ghost business anyways? Specially when the ghost in question was missing.

After the fight _ he _ picked, Josh had made himself scarce for the rest of the week. Sam couldn’t help but think that she should’ve been happy about this. She really should’ve. The problem was she wasn’t, that somehow the silence was worse. But she wasn’t about to tell him that if- _ when _ he decides to show up. 

Yes, she was angry, she was hurt, but there was still this… _ yearning _\- Sam choked on the word- for him. As confusing as it was. And she had no idea how to handle what was happening. Gah.

“Why are you avoiding everybody?” 

Her eyes pulled away from the window. Lounging on her bed as if he owned it was Josh, an arm resting behind his head and looking at her with expectant eyes. Sam tried to hold on to her anger, not liking what she felt. Relief, that he came back. And something else: intense, burning, awful. An emotion she’d grown wary of... Sam kept her face blank. “Oh, so you’re talking to me now?” 

He frowned. “I was never not talking to you.”

“Really? Is that why you’ve been gone these last few days?”

“Aw Sammy, are you saying that you missed me?”

“Not in the least.”

“Hmm.”

“_ What _?” 

“Nothing.” He merely shrugs, that insufferable smirk she’s all too familiar with curving his lips. “Just that I wouldn’t be here if you weren’t thinking about me, that’s all.”

“Well your ghostly radar must be on the fritz then.” She picks up her pen and dashes off a few more lines. “I didn’t realize being a ghost also made you a mind reader.”

“Your thoughts are written all over your face.”

“Good to know I’m so transparent,” she said dryly.

A sly smile. “Only for those who know where to look.” 

Sam looks away first. She focused on the half finished sketch in front of her, the image in her mind long gone, but kept adding more lines to it, looking for something, _ anything _ to distract her. 

“You didn’t answer my question,” Josh said.

“Why bother?” She shrugged. “Apparently you already seem to know what I’m thinking so…” And it was none of his business. 

“I may be going out on a limb here but I’m sensing it has to do with the same reason Cochise was nipping at your heels the other day.”

“If you already know, then why ask about it.”

“I’m just trying to make conversation,” he defended.

Sam crossed her arms, not amused.

Josh rolled his eyes. “Right, I forgot is better to be miserable and alone.”

It took a lot to refrain herself from throwing something at his big fat head. With her patience running thin and looking to get off the topic, she asks, “Where were you?”

Josh’s face grows tight and Sam braces herself for him to push, to provoke her but he simply says, “Around.”

She scoffed. “Oh, so you can pry all you want about my life but when I ask you something, you can’t even give me a straight answer?”

A faint smile. Bastard. “Good to know you still care,” Josh said. “Warms my cold, dead heart.”

He doesn’t duck when she throws a pillow at him. 

***

Sam startled awake. Her face soaked and sticky. Her breath coming out in pants. 

“It was a dream,” she heard Josh say, his presence a gentle hum on her skin. Sam latched onto it as she swam out of the murkiness of her subconscious. She sat up straight, her surroundings slowly coming into view.

Josh was instantly in front of her, his eyes wide as they sought hers in the darkness. “Just a dream,” he repeated. 

She was home. In her bed. She had made it out. 

She could feel his gaze on her but Sam curled on to her side, stubbornly keeping her back to him. Tried to ignore the pounding in her head, focusing on her quiet breaths instead. She hated that someone was seeing her like this. Hated that of all people, he was the one that got to see her like this. He didn’t have the right to see her be vulnerable. Not anymore. But at the same time, she couldn’t bring herself to give a shit.

Sam made herself go back to sleep.

***

She awoke to the sight of Emily raiding her wardrobe. “Good to see you’re not dead.” she said, not bothering to stop her ransacking. “Even if you look like it.”

Sam quickly sat up, temporarily blinded by the morning light. “Emily? What are you doing here?”

“Get up,” Emily ordered, chucking some clothes on the bed. “We’re going out.” 

Not waiting for a response, she turned and left the room.

Sam groaned, throwing herself back on the bed and rubbed her eyes, wiping the residual sleep from them. A quick glance at her bedside clock told her it was almost noon. Had she really slept that long? 

Still, she didn’t move from where she lay.

“You do know,” Josh drawled from his side of the bed. “That if you don’t get up now, she’s only gonna come back and bitch about it until you do.” 

Sam gave him the most sassy side eye she could muster. “You would know all about that, wouldn’t you.” 

“Ouch.”

Eventually she got up before Emily decided to come back and drag her out.

***

Sam felt the weight of Josh’s attention heavy on her as she finished getting ready. Knows his gaze is on the purple bags beneath her eyes. Senses the questions pressing on his tongue. Yet he doesn’t push, doesn’t demand to know what nightmarish hell had disrupted her sleep last night. 

It wasn’t that the nightmares had stopped, but it had been a while since she had a dream like that. Long enough, that she’d foolishly started hoping she wouldn’t have one again. Wishful thinking on her part. 

Sam had just finished adjusting her scarf when he said, “If you’re not up for this just tell Heather Chandler down there to back off.” 

Her eyes met his. She saw the challenge blazing in them. “Don’t tell me you’re worried?”

“So what if I am?” 

“I’m not some broken doll,” she instantly snapped.

“I know you’re not,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean I can’t worry about you.” 

She felt her body go hard. “Go haunt someone else,” Sam seethed, but she was the one that walked away.

***

Emily and Matt were waiting for her in the foyer. Matt gave her a sheepish smile while Emily crossed her arms impatiently. “You certainly took your sweet time.”

Rolling her eyes, she asked, “Where are we going?” She hadn’t even gone out of the house yet and she already wanted to crawl back to bed.

Matt opened his mouth to answer but Emily beat him to it.

“We’re going to grab a bite first,” she said. “We’re starving and you haven’t had breakfast yet.”

“I appreciate the concern, Em, but I’m not really hungry.”

“Really?” Emily scoffed. “I don’t know how you can say that to me with a straight face when you look like your bones could snap at any moment.” 

“Wow. No tact at all with this one,” Josh suddenly appeared beside her. Sam gave him a subtle hiss. 

“Em.” Came Matt’s soft warning.

Sam leveled her gaze at them, crossing her arms. She didn’t need Matt to defend her nor did she want him to. Like she told Josh, she wasn’t a broken doll. Besides Emily was the only one who didn’t treat her any differently which she actually appreciated. “Is that why you’re here? To babysit me?”

Emily scoffed, placing a hand on her hip. “Do I look like a babysitter to you?” 

There was something weird going on that didn’t sit right with her. 

Emily’s shrewd golden eyes narrowed at her. “What else are you going to do with yourself? Spend the day doing those depressing paintings of yours?”

“They’re not depressing,” Sam protests. 

“Oh please, everything you paint is depressing,” she retorts, scrunching her nose. “It’s all black and white and grey.” 

“Maybe I like the contrast,” said Sam. “Ever thought of that?” 

She debated on pushing, on insisting to stay. But Emily had a point. What was the point of staying in? Sleep? As tempting as crawling back to her bed sounded...

With a resigned sigh, she agreed, letting her friends drag her out of the house. She knew she was going to regret this.

***

After a quick lunch and scouring the entire mall, Sam was exhausted. How the hell did Matt keep up with Emily’s shopping sprees, she didn’t know. Sam barely survived herself. She was pretty sure they were even more aggressive than they were before, and that was saying a lot. 

Shop after shop, rows of clothes, shoes and jewelry. Yet nothing inside her stirred at the display like it would’ve done before. 

The only thing worse than the trip itself had been Josh’s unwanted commentary. He had an opinion on _ everything _. She had to catch herself a couple of times from slipping up and talking to him in public, which had clearly been his intention all along. Prick. 

Matt kept throwing her some weird looks the entire time that only made the uneasiness she felt this morning worsen. 

“Hey are you doing okay?” he asked once they were alone. 

Sam looked forward to the day people would stop asking her that. She forced a smile on her face. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“It’s just that I know Emily can be a little… _ aggressive _-” 

“Matt, I know you guys worry about me, but don’t you think that treating me like I’m made of glass makes me feel worse?” She crossed her arms. “At least Em doesn’t walk on eggshells around me.”

Matt looked at her closely but Sam’s attention was back to the clothing rack she’d been half-heartedly sweeping through.

And that was that. 

***

The sun was starting to set by the time they left the mall, Matt carrying most of the brunt of Emily’s shopping bags and Sam with a small bag of supplies for her makeshift art studio at home. 

Somehow they ended up at the park downtown. Sam was too drained to question why they were there and neither of them bothered to explain either. They all tensed as the sound of shrieking laughter pierced the air. In the distance, the children played. Safe. Coddled. Ignorant to the momentary emotional distress their innocent laughter caused the fucked up trio. 

Sam pointedly ignored how Emily’s hand found Matt’s, the way her shoulders relaxed when he gripped it in his own. She found Josh’s gaze on her, concern shading those eyes. 

She pointedly ignored that too. 

She stopped in her tracks as she saw where Matt and Emily were headed. As they made their way to the table, where all of their friends were waiting. She did not like the feeling that settled in her gut. Not at all. 

“I thought you said it was going to be just us,” Sam said, looking between Emily and Matt.

Emily raised a brow. “Did I?” 

She turned to Josh as subtle as she could. One look at him told her exactly what she needed to know. He knew this was going to happen and didn’t even warn her. Honestly, she didn’t know why she kept expecting something from him. 

She looked to where her friends were sitting. Something inside her twinged at seeing everyone paired off. 

Jess smiled in greeting and gestured for her to sit down on the empty space next to her and Mike. Sam didn’t move. 

“What’s going on?” She asked, too tired, too angry to bother with any pleasantries. Sam was familiar with what a _ friendly _ intervention looked like.

“The only thing missing is a fucking banner,” said Josh, but his tone was devoid of any amusement. 

Mike approached her slowly, holding his hands up as if he was dealing with some kind of animal that would just run away if it got spooked too easily. “Calm down. We just wanna talk.”

Her stance grew even more defensive. “And that’s why you decided to _ ambush _ me?”

“You were screening all of our calls and wouldn’t answer any of our messages. You left us no other choice.”

“Yeah, a huge mistake on my part, otherwise I would’ve saved you from the trouble of doing this.” 

“I know how this must look like to you but we’re doing this for your own good.”

This had to be some sort of payback for all the interventions she had instigated in the past. That was the exact kind of thing the old her would’ve said. They were using her own methods against her. Oh the irony.

“Not so fun when you’re at the other end, now is it?” Josh drawled in her ear. 

Sam grounded her jaw, refraining herself from reacting. The others already thought she was a walking cry for help, no need for her to add to that notion. “Okay, I learned my lesson and you guys gave me a taste of my own medicine. Can I leave now?” 

The silence that followed her statement was unnerving. Here she was, surrounded by her friends and she felt more alone than ever.

“Well?” she snapped, growing more irritated with that looks they were giving each other. “What is it?”

“This seclusion of yours has gone long enough,” Emily said, crossing her arms. 

Sam‘s lips thinned. “Well, I’m here now.”

“Because we basically dragged you out of the house or else you wouldn’t have come.”

“So?”

“That’s the problem,” Mike broke in. “Sam this isn’t you. This tough act you have going on… it’s like you’re so scared to accept what happened that you’ve become a completely different person.”

This was exactly what she had been trying to avoid.

Mike’s stance loosened, his expression growing apologetic and tired. “Look we know that you and Josh-”

The sharp look she gave him was enough to make Mike glance at the others for back up. Josh clicked his tongue, murmuring something under his breath.

“Look Sam, you don’t have to pretend like you’re holding yourself together, bottling everything up,” Chris took over. “How are you going to move on if you haven’t even accepted that they died?” 

“I tried to grieve them. Trust me. I _ tried _,” Sam said, her throat tightening. “But every time I let everything sink in…” She shook her head. Doesn’t want to think about it.

“Look Sam, we get it, okay? We do,” Chris said, touching her shoulder. “But there are better ways to get through this.”

“Like what?” she snapped, shaking his hand off her. “Burying my heartache with school? Drown my sorrows with a bottle? Fill the empty void with shopping sprees?” Her angry gaze flickering over every one of them as she spoke. “We’re all dealing with it in our own ways. This is me dealing with it, okay?” 

Ashley tentatively walked over to her. “Yeah, that’s the problem,” she said gently. “You’re not dealing with it, Sam. You’re just pressing pause.” 

“So tell me,” Sam said, looking between Chris and Ash. “Tell me what you’re doing to get through this because I’m clearly doing it wrong.” 

This time it was Chris who answered. “I moved on. The twins are gone. Josh is gone,” No he wasn’t, he was standing right in front of her. But they didn’t know that. Chris went on, oblivious, “You have to say goodbye.” 

His words made her feel far away and horribly grounded at the same time. They made her resent them for it. What the fuck did they know? They’re not the ones who have to live with his ghost. With the constant reminder of what she’d lost. Sure, Josh had been their friend. Best friend, even. But it wasn’t the same. 

“Easy,” Josh murmured. “Don’t say anything you’ll regret later.”

Sam wanted to laugh. A year ago it had been her saying those things to him. Now Josh- _ Josh _ was the one telling her to calm down. _ Josh _ who always let him temper get the best of him, who never had any sorts of qualms about what he’d say, no matter how spiteful or mean it might’ve been. 

There had to be a joke in there somewhere. 

Sam angrily stalked away, knowing without looking back that her ghost was close behind. 

***

Josh kept his distance as he stormed after her.

That attempt at trying to preserve that bit of normalcy was laughable at best (caging Sam never worked) but Josh couldn’t fault them for trying. Sam had always been the glue that kept their mismatched group together. The one that was always had her shit together. The one they could depend on. That constant variable. Because even if she was still mad, when you needed her, she was there. 

Sam was the final girl. She was a survivor, a fighter, but lately…. She was burying her heart so deep that she was burying her spirit too. And the worst part was that she didn’t care, that she’d stopped fighting. The girl they knew was gone, and she wasn’t coming back. 

Sam kept walking until they reached a more secluded place. Stopping before a bridge, she leaned against the railing overlooking the lake, watching the sun as it disappeared into the water. A ray of light cuts across her face. It ignites her hair. She didn’t look at Josh, yet he could see her eyes were still too shadowed. 

Grief. It had all come to this. 

He wanted nothing more than to go over to her, grab that hand that was gripping the railing, to brush his thumb over her knuckles that were now turning white from their tight hold. He wanted to have her bury her face into his chest as he hugged her, feel her body pressed close to his. But he couldn’t do any of that.

So he only said, “Care to share what’s churning around in that beautiful head of yours?”

Silence.

“Sam.” 

“I’m fine,” she answered, her voice curt.

“Bullshit,” Josh said, walking over to her side. His eyes hunted her face, searching for a sign of sadness, of anger, of _ anything _\- wanting to see something other than that apathetic detachment on her features. But Sam refused to look back at him, her gaze stubbornly fixed on the lake in front of them. 

He was pushing but she was pulling. Josh may be a selfish prick but he knew part of the reason he was still here it was because Sam hasn’t, wouldn’t, couldn’t let go of him completely. It was a two way street. That much he knew. And as much as she didn’t want to admit it, Sammy was still holding on.

“Tell me what to do,” he said. “Tell me what to do to help you.” 

Her jaw tightened, letting his pleas go unanswered. 

“After last year- after everything we’ve been through-“ 

“Don’t,” she said quietly, but not weakly.

“No,” he hissed. “You’re not going to push me away.”

“This conversation is over.”

“Like hell it is.” 

Those hazel eyes darted towards him and Josh almost sighed in relief at the emotion simmering in them. He sensed the shift in her, saw how all of the anger and resentment that had laid dormant inside her sprang to life. _ Good _. Anything better than that cold and hollow silence.

“What do you want me to say?” she snapped. “That this is all your fault? That if it hadn’t been for your stupid need for revenge, we wouldn’t have gone back to that godforsaken mountain in the first place? That Mike wouldn’t have lost his fingers, or that Ashley and Chris would’ve get that haunted look in their eyes when somebody asks them how they got together. _ That you wouldn’t be dead. _” 

Her words hit deep, digging up his anger and regret, but Josh- to his credit- didn’t even flinch. 

Sam shrugs angrily. “Did you ever stop to think for one moment that I might’ve needed someone to mourn with? Because I lost them too you know. I lost Hannah and Beth- just like _ you _ . I felt guilty for not being there for them- just like _ you _ . Didn’t you think I blamed myself for not stopping the prank when I could? For letting Beth go after Hannah in the middle of that snowstorm _ alone _?” she said tightly, her features twisting into a pained expression. “Of course not, because you were too selfish to focus on something other than your own pain.” 

Tears shone in her eyes, few of them slipping down her cheeks. Not from sadness- oh, no- she was fucking pissed. “I was there for you when you needed me. Every call, every text, the late nights. I was _ there _ for you. And what did you do? You lied. You ran away, cloistering yourself in that damn mountain. When I needed you, you didn’t think about me or didn’t look back-”

“You know it wasn’t like that. I cared about you,” Josh snapped. 

“Is that why you terrorized me? Violated my privacy? Made me watch footage of yourself getting sawed in half? Because you _ cared _ about me?”

Her gaze burned. Josh forced himself not to look away.

“Fine,” he conceded. “I dug that grave myself with everything I did.” 

“Forget it.” Sam shakes her head. “What’s done is done. It’s not like it matters anymore.”

“Then why doesn’t it feel that way?”

Sam went back to ignoring him. Just like that, the fight in her gone. 

Josh didn’t say another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two need to get their shit together.


	6. Light a Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Josh awakens after dawn and makes an upsetting discovery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is me trying to write a simple flashback scene that ended up turning into a whole chapter and a bunch of ANGST™
> 
> Enjoy :)

_ Josh didn’t remember how he got here. _

_ One moment he was in the mines. The next, he was walking through the station’s doors. The precinct was crawling with activity. Phones continuously ringing, rangers coming in and out, even a few EMTs walked in. For the life of him Josh couldn’t remember how he got here. Everything was so fuzzy. _

_ The mines... He’d been in the mines with Mike. They were supposed to regroup with Sam and the others at the lodge. But he doesn’t remember getting out of the mines… He followed Mike. He saw a stranger's body hanging on a hook. He jumped into the freezing water. And then… and then… and then what? _

_ Josh peered down at himself. His- the Psycho’s- overalls had been replaced by black clothes. His hands weren’t dirty anymore. His face no longer hurt. What happened? Did he make it out? Had the others? _

_ He approached the man sitting in the front desk. Josh cleared his throat. “Excuse me.” _

_ The man didn’t look up. _

_ “Uh excuse me,” he repeats a little more louder. The man still didn’t look up. _

_ Okay, rude. “What are you, deaf? Hellooo?” _

_ Still not looking at him. _

_ “Listen pal, I just had one of the worst nights of my life so if you could help me out here, that’ll be fucking swell.” _

_ But the man kept scribbling some forms on the desk and didn’t answer him. _

** _Oh, fuck this._ **

_ His eyes flickered towards the open door where an officer just came out of. Since the man in the front desk was still ignoring him, Josh saw no fault in walking in. Nobody stopped him as he made his way through the hallway, nobody acknowledged him. _

_ For a moment, Josh wondered if this was another of his hallucinations, but it didn’t feel like one. Usually his hallucinations involved accusations or pointed fingers at him. Here, there was nobody telling him what a piece of shit he was, instead they were just ignoring him. _

_ “Okay…” he murmured to himself. “This is freaking me the fuck out.” _

_ Even with all the activity, there was a preternatural quiet- like an omen. Josh kept walking, ignoring the trepidation that tugged inside him. The flutter of uneasiness that grew as he slowly treaded farther. He took a turn and- _

_ There she was. Sitting alone in the hallway, was Sam, her fingers clutching the blanket thrown around her shoulders. _

_ “Sam,” he breathes, relieved to see a familiar face. _

_ He doesn’t hesitate to approach her but she doesn’t look up, not even when he’s standing right in front of her. Josh frowns, studying her in the wan light, his eyes going to the blood smeared across her forehead and her cheek. She looked like she’d been to hell and back. “Sam.” _

_ She didn’t answer. He grew more nervous with every passing second of silence. Josh knew he’d fucked up, that he and his friends weren’t on the best terms at the moment but Sam wasn’t one to ignore him for the sake of it. Especially at a time like this. Josh kneeled before her, her unseeing eyes making him uneasy. This wasn’t the same girl he saw in the mines. _

_ Something was wrong. _

_ “Sammy?” He raised a hand to brush a stray lock of hair from her face only for it to go through her. Josh stumbled back, falling on his ass. _

_ Something was _ ** _very_ ** _ wrong. _

_ He touched his chest, his face, but they felt solid. He felt a sinking dread as he reached out, as he tried to touch Sam again but his hand went straight through. _

_ What. The. Fuck. _

_ “Samantha Giddings?” _

_ They both looked up to see a cop approaching. Josh didn’t react fast enough, didn’t have time to move away before the man walked right through him. He doesn’t feel it, not physically, but the reality of the situation arrowed into him. _

_ No. No way this was happening. Not to him. This had to be some mistake, he couldn’t… he wasn’t... _

** _Dead._ **

_ Josh’s ears were ringing. No one can see him, no one could hear him, no one could touch him. Shit, someone just walked through him like he was nothing... _

_ The cop said something. Josh couldn’t hear him. His eyes went to Sam again. She was being led to a door labeled as _ ** _Interview Room 1_ ** _ . He called her name in a hoarse whisper. _

** _Look back. Please._ **

_ She didn’t. _

***

_ Rain fell without mercy as Josh walked upon rows and rows of gravestones, the sound of water hitting stone growing louder with every step he took. The cemetery was empty, something he didn’t find surprising, considering that not many people liked to spend their time among the resting dead. _

_ After that _ ** _godawful_ ** _ funeral that put his memory to shame, Josh didn’t know where else to go. Didn’t know what else to do. Since there was no way in hell he was going back to the manor (he had already haunted those halls long enough), he’d ended up making the graveyard his new lair. Josh was still getting used to the idea of being dead when he wasn’t actually _ ** _gone_ ** _ . Not completely. And he found the grim ambiance of it all a perfect fit for his new predicament. _

_ He finally reached the miniature city of mausoleums, striding his way across the sea of white marble to enter what had been appointed as his permanent residence. It had grown dark inside thanks to the stormy weather, the only light in the room coming from the candles placed on the small altar and the entryway. _

_ The Washington mausoleum was a big, black block of granite with stained glass windows and arched bronze doors, placed on the outskirts of the cemetery with the ominous Washington supported by roman columns. Posh. Lofty. A bit Gothic. Pretty hard to miss. _

_ What can he say, his family had a dramatic flair. Himself included. _

_ For the past few days, he’d been prowling around the grounds, searching for signs of any other ghosts, lost souls, anything at all. Something that indicated that he wasn’t alone on this other side. And the cemetery seemed like the perfect scenario for wandering spirits, with its eerie atmosphere, and the obscure mist surrounding the graves. Makes perfect sense that it would be haunted. Right? _

_ Yeah, no. _

_ So far there have been no sightings of anything. Zero. Zilch. No other ghosts or spirits. No guardian angel to lead him up. No fiendish demons to lure him down. Not even the Grim Reaper himself. Nothing. He was truly alone on this ghostly plane. _

_ So Josh had been biding his time, lingering close to his crypt. Waiting for any signs or answers because something had to give. Fate, God, Death or whatever the fuck is supposed to be in charge couldn’t just leave him here. Stranded. _

_ The echo of footsteps alerted him to a presence. Josh instantly recognized the gait of the person striding his way. The heels of her shoes clicked against the polished granite floor, drowning the sound of the drizzle beating against the windowpanes. _

_ She hadn’t been to the funeral. Everybody else had gone. Chris. Ash. Mike. Even Emily. But not Sam. So nobody could really blame him for being surprised when she showed up to his family’s mausoleum out of the fucking blue. That she even showed up at all. _

_ She looked so tired. Even in the faint light he could see the smudged purple beneath her eyes, that familiar haunted look brought by a night of nightmares. He wanted to believe he was wrong, that this couldn’t be her. But it was. Josh was surprised to see how much she’d changed in such a short time. _

_ Sam stopped in front of the joint grave beside his and murmured something he didn’t quite catch, before hesitantly moving to his own. She ran a tentative hand over his name engraved on the stone. Josh didn’t like it. It felt so… final. Well, as final as it could get, since apparently death wasn’t as permanent as he would’ve liked it to be. _

_ Two tears slid down her face. Swift and cold. She didn’t wipe them away. “You lied to me.” _

_ He went to stand next to her. “As much as I want to apologize, you can’t hear me,” he offers with a sad smile, looking at her face glowing in the dim light of the candles, her skin still glittering with rain. “So I won’t.” _

_ “I am so angry with you. Furious,” she went on, unaware of the ghost at her side, her eyes desolate. “But for the most part I’m just tired. Tired of racking my brain, of trying to understand why, and I just-” The snag on the words was like a blow to his intangible gut. Sam puts her hands on her face, running them up through her wet hair. “ _ ** _Fuck_ ** _ , I don’t even know what I’m doing here. It’s not like you can hear me or anything.” _

_ “Hey, hey. Don’t.” He cups her face between his hands, trying to wipe away the tears. The corners of his mouth turned down when he couldn’t. “Don’t say that. I’m right here.” _

_ He scans her eyes, her face, looking… What was he looking for? Some sign of recognition? And if so, was he able to handle Sam’s reaction? Would she still be saying the things she’s saying now? Would she recoil at the sight of him? Would she be scared? Or would she be angry? _

_ He drops his hands. If Josh were alive, she would hate him. He knows that much. _

_ But her face didn’t change. Her eyes were still liquid, somber, lost. “You know I was thinking about what I last said to you,” she said, her voice quiet and loud at the same time in the silent mausoleum. “‘Josh, do you have the key for the cable car.’ God, I was so _ ** _stupid_ ** _ …. All I was thinking about was getting us out of that mountain, you know? I didn’t think about saying goodbye- didn’t think I needed to. You were supposed to come back with us.” _

_ He remembers her urgent expression, clear in the darkness of the mines. The light of her headband shining brightly on his filthy face. Her cold, bloodied hands brushing his palm, her touch brief but soft as he handed the key. Her voice, somehow still composed, even after everything she had gone through, as she and Mike planned their escape while he uselessly stood on the sidelines. The quick glance she gave him before she climbed away. _

_ Sam took a shuddering breath, her voice turned unsteady. “I know you were hurting. That you lost your sisters, that your parents became more distant than they usually were, that you pushed everyone away but you had me… _ ** _ You had me_ ** _ . I only hoped that you saw that through this mess.” _

_ Josh doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know what to say. Not like it would matter anyways. So he only stands frozen in place as she walks out of the mausoleum, the rain still beats outside. _

_ Later that night, he finds himself staring up at Sam’s bedroom window like he had done so many times before. Only this time, the lights were off. _

***

_ Josh stays around her after that. _

_ The days came and went, and Sammy seemed unaware of the time passing. She mostly stayed in her room, not getting out of bed, refusing to eat, not answering any of her texts or calls. What little time she managed to sleep, she awoke gasping and shaking. The liveliness that lived inside her now quiet. A static that made him uneasy. Everything about her was now static. _

_ She was a ghost. Just like him. _

_ Josh has stopped trying to make sense of it. He was dead and he couldn’t do anything about it. Instead, he spends his time trying to communicate with Sam, trying to let her know he was still there. But it’s proving to be difficult, especially when she doesn’t care about anything. She couldn’t hear him, no matter how loud he talked. He tweaks and moves some stuff here and there but she doesn’t pay any mind to it. Josh doesn’t bother to try touching her again, not wanting to see his hands go through her again. _

_ It was hard to see her like this. But Sam was strong. She could survive this. She could survive anything. _

_ Josh didn’t leave- he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. When he needed someone, Sam had been there. Month after month, Sam had been there for him. Even when he pushed everyone away, couldn’t bring himself to care about anything, Sam hadn’t given up on him. _

_ And Josh wouldn’t give up on her. _

***

_ She searches for him in the dead of night. Puzzling, since he was the root of many of her nightmares and yet she wakes up coated in cold sweat, her hand palming what used to be his side of the bed, searching for the familiar heat of his body. Hoping that her nightmares were just nightmares, and not the cold, harsh truth. But she could never forget for long. Inevitably, she relieves her grief all over again when she finds nothing but frigid sheets and emptiness. _

_ Sam adds it up to the fact she had gotten used to sleeping next to him, to the codependency they both developed the last year (even though deep down she knows it was more than that- for her at least). A habit, she tells herself. And habits die hard. _

_ But she can’t help but feel that his presence was still there with her, hiding in the shadows. _

_ *** _

_ One afternoon Sam picks up her sketchbook. The one he gave her for her 19th birthday- the last one they celebrated together. She stared at it for a long time. Long enough that Josh was convinced she might throw it out in the trash or even burn it. But to his surprise, she flipped it open, flashing through the pages with enough agility that he couldn’t catch a glimpse of her older drawings, as if she herself didn’t want to see them either, until she settled on a blank sheet. _

_ Mindlessly grabbing a pencil, she started sketching, brows furrowed and hand gliding through the page forming unsure lines that turned into rough curves that turned into confident shapes, transforming into something. Josh looked over her shoulder and- _

_ Huh. _

_ She had captured its cloudy predatory gaze, all of the sharp teeth and sharp claws, with its long limbs curved, the Wendigo looked ready to strike out of the page. Of all the things she could’ve drawn, she drew _ ** _that_ ** _ . Don’t get him wrong, he was all in for the weird and creepy shit, but _ ** _Sam_ ** _ ? Trying to get her to watch a scary movie was a trial in itself. _

_ Sam doesn’t stop to take it in. No, she passed that page and started doing another sketch. Then another. And another. Before they both knew it, it was already dark out and Sam had spent most of her day doing something other than moping. _

***

_ The creepy drawings became a thing. Not that Josh was complaining. Her coping mechanisms were a hell lot better than his, that’s for sure. _

_ In a matter of days, Sam had turned her room into a makeshift art studio. An easel beside the window. Paintbrushes in glass jars. Charcoal stained finger prints. She’d dropped out of all of her classes and had nothing else to do but paint and draw. Channeling all of her pain, sadness, and frustration into her art. Josh lingered by her side as she poured her heart out, filling white sheets with mountains and darkness, with monsters and _ ** _death_ ** _ . It was terrifying… he loved it. _

_ Sam had always downplayed her artistic skills, something Josh never understood. Sam was an artist, had always been. He’d seen it from something as simple as her nails, over to the rare occasions she’s shown him some of her drawings, either of a landscape she saw during one of her hikes, or a quick sketch of one of his sisters doing a silly pose (Beth) or staring off with a dreamy look on her face (Hannah). Hell, he was pretty sure she was the one that had helped Hannah design her tattoo. When he’d ask, she’d always shrugged it off with an _ ** _It’s just a hobby_ ** _ . _

_ Josh knew, even if he was stuck on his own personal hell, that Sam was gonna be alright. _


	7. Haunted Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is focused on holding herself together while trying to push Josh away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Sorry it's been so long, my brain kinda turned off for this one. Thank you for sticking around and for being patient with me!!!! I hope you're all safe and that this brings you a bit of joy while we're all stuck at home. Enjoy <3

_ Why do they say ghosts are cold? Mine are warm, a breath dampening your cheek, a voice when you thought you were alone. _ \- Julie Buntin

Sam was still ignoring him by the time she got home that night.

She didn’t say a word to him the next day either. 

Talking to Josh was what got her into this mess in the first place so Sam figured if she ignored Josh long enough, he would leave her alone. She had managed to stay clear of him and the few times they’d interacted- initiated by him of course- she pretended he wasn’t there, infuriating him all the more because he knew Sam could very well see him. 

Seeing that he wasn’t going to get his way, Josh went back to act like his insufferable self.

“You can’t ignore me forever,” he taunted.

Sam knew he was right, but it didn’t change the fact that she didn’t want to deal with him. Not now. Not yet. Not ever. 

“Watch me,” she told him, mostly out of spite, knowing he couldn’t do anything else. 

Her words were dismissed with a derisive snort and a challenge. “I’ve got nothing but time.”

It wasn’t in Josh Washington’s nature to let things be, after all. That’s something she should’ve learned by now. And while his tone might've been insolent, Sam still heard the underlying bitterness of the words. 

* * *

Being haunted is not at all what she expected. It’s not frightening. It doesn’t send chills down her spine. It doesn’t stop her heart dead.

For her, it was changing her wardrobe to daily sweaters and thick knitted socks because it was always so damn cold. It meant being alone but not being _ alone _. Sometimes it was the brush of someone’s breath on the back of her neck as she stood in front of a canvas when there was nobody behind her.

But mostly it was just... Josh.

Josh, who’s always making innuendos. 

Josh, who made faces behind people when they’re talking to her. 

Josh, who kept trying to scare her by jumping out of nowhere. 

Josh, who spent every possible second of his time getting on her nerves. 

It was just Josh Washington. 

* * *

Mike was rubbing the back of his neck when she opened the door. And even though he was the one that came all the way up to her house, the shock was evident on his face when she answered the door. 

Sam didn’t say anything, only leaned against the door with her arms crossed. 

Mike flashed her a smile that reminded her why most girls in high school were crazy about him. “Hey.”

Sam raised a very judgemental eyebrow, not impressed. If he thought she had forgotten about the little stunt at the park, he had another thing coming.

Mike held up his hands in a ‘I come in peace’ gesture, one of them holding a bag full of takeout.

Sam narrowed her eyes. “Tofu?”

“Yours is.” 

She opened the door wider and stepped aside, letting herself be bribed with the promise of mouth watering takeout. 

It was when they got comfortable in her living room that she noticed the lack of yapping in her ear. She could feel Josh hovering, sticking to the shadows but looking on, watching, waiting. The urge to flip him off and tell him to beat it was strong as ever, she would even settle for a warning glance, but seeing as she was hellbent on ignoring his presence, it wouldn’t seem prudent. Ignoring a ghost was harder than it sounded. 

Mike must’ve noticed the haggard look on her face because he frowned and said, “Everything okay?” before stuffing his mouth full of chow mein. Classy.

Sam dug her chopsticks into her kung pao tofu, popping a piece into her mouth as she tried to gather her thoughts. It was delicious and kept her from saying something she would regret later. 

_ Hmmm _ . _ Is everything okay? That’s a great question, Mike. I”ve been hearing Josh Washington’s voice for the past months and never told anyone because I thought it was all in my head. But NO, I’m actually being haunted by the most insufferable ghost I have ever met and I’m apparently the only person who can see him. I don’t know why he’s here. I don’t know what his endgame is, other than drive me insane. And I don’t know how to get rid of him. So no. Everything is not okay. _

She sticks to her motto. “I’m fine.”

Mike looked like he didn’t believe her and Sam refrained from rolling her eyes. This was how it was with Mike. After Blackwood, he made a point to check in with her once in a while. Sam knows he and the others meant well, but gah, a girl needs her space. 

She only wished Josh got the memo. 

“What do you want?” she asked, the words coming out harsher than she intended. As much as Mike wanted to mask this as a social call, Sam knew better.

For a split second, she swore she heard Josh say, “_ Mmm prickly. _”

Mike’s grin faltered a bit at her tone. “Just wanted to check up on you. You don’t call. You don’t text. You sure know how to make a guy feel neglected.”

This time Sam knew she didn't imagine it when Josh snorted and said, “_ Tell me about it _.”

“I also wanted to give you this.” Mike placed a folded piece of paper on the coffee table and slid it over to her. 

Sam didn’t take it, her face wary. “What is that?” 

“I signed you up to teach painting classes for trauma survivors.”

Sam’s eyes snapped to him, a piece of tofu halfway to her mouth. “_ What _?” 

“Oh don’t give me that look.” He dropped the smile, his voice turning serious. “This might be good for you. Seeing other people, having something to do.”

“Are we going to have the talk again?” Sam asked. She fought the urge to look over her shoulder, no doubt where Josh was standing, eavesdropping. Busybody. 

“Afraid so.” 

_ Crap _. She set her food down, her meager appetite ruined.

“I get that things are hard right now, and if you don’t want to talk about… _ them _\- fine. But you can’t just stay cooped up in here all by yourself.” 

That was presumptuous of him. Firstly, she wasn’t cooped up all by _ herself _ (as much as she wanted to). And second, she went out _ plenty _ . Out to work, out for runs… okay maybe not plenty but _ enough _. So what if she didn’t want to step foot outside the house. Lots of people liked to stay in. 

Mike kept talking while she stewed in the wonders of denial. It didn’t taste as good as her kung pao but it was close. “And you can’t get on with your life until-”

“Is that what everyone’s doing?” Sam broke in, her voice taking on a defensive edge. “Waiting for me to get on with my life?” 

“No,” Mike answered a little too quickly. Then grimaced. “Maybe.”

That wasn’t any more comforting.

“Sam,” Mike began, his voice sympathetic. She didn’t need his sympathy.

“Don’t,” she snapped.

“You can’t be sad forever.”

Screw him. Yes she could. 

“Look just promise me you’ll think about it, alright?” Mike said and- _ ugh _\- she couldn’t say no to those pretty brown eyes.

Sam didn’t need to think about it- she doesn’t want to think about it. But she didn’t tell him any of that. Instead she took the flyer with a tight lipped smile to appease Mike and tried to enjoy the rest of her meal.

* * *

Sam drove home slower than usual. After Mike left the day before, she spent the night scouring the internet, looking for any information on ghosts and hauntings but everything that loaded on the screen had been useless and full of unreliable sources, and not enough to make up for her bloodshot eyes and lack of sleep. 

She didn’t know how she managed to get up and make it through her shift at the studio. She yawned and mentally chanted: _ Almost home. Almost _. The idea of passing out in her bed was getting more enticing and more enticing with every passing second. 

Although her research efforts had been paid with a slew of no help whatsoever and a lot of weird stuff that made her want to bleach her eyes, she did learn one thing. The departed needed to get closure before they were ready to leave. Those who stayed were because they still had ties to the mortal plane. 

Her mind wandered on everything she had researched and everything Josh had told her. Could he really not know why his spirit was stuck here, unable to move on? Sam had a hard time believing it. 

_ What’s keeping you here, Josh? What are you looking for? _

“For someone who hates my dead guts, you spend an awful lotta time thinking about me.”

Sam flinched. Glancing at her rearview mirror, she found Josh lounging in the backseat. He sat with his knees spread, his hands resting on his thighs, a too lively expression on his face considering the circumstances. His eyes shimmered with challenge as they met hers, resembling a troublemaker schoolboy that sat in the back of the classroom.

Sam tore her gaze off him and focused on the road. “I’m not thinking _ about _ you. I’m thinking of how to get _ rid _of you. Big difference.”

“How’s that working out for you?”

“You’re still here,” she retorted, her words accusing.

He smirked fiendishly. 

A few seconds of silence passed before Sam realized what she’d done. Her first words to him in days.

That scheming prick!

She clamped her mouth shut but the damage was already done. 

“Uh-uh-uh. You already broke the silent treatment. No going back now.” The lopsided grin he shot her gave his traitorous features a boyish look. It’s somehow even more irritating. 

She veered towards the subject that had her thinking of _ hi _ \- getting _ rid _ of him in the first place. “I learned something about your _ kind _ last night.”

“Did you now?”

“According to my research, when a ghost is unable to move on, it’s because they have unfinished business that’s holding them back.”

“Well, well,” Josh crooned. “Somebody’s been doing her homework.”

“Yep. Delved into the dark web. Tried to infiltrate a demon chatroom. Get some inside info.”

“And how’d that turn out?”

“Bad. Very bad.” She ignored the way his low laugh slithered down her spine. 

“I can’t imagine why.”

Although his posture was all casual arrogance, she could feel the frustration simmering and bubbling beneath his facade. Sam knew she couldn't expect him to be upfront with her. Not Josh, who was all slippery lines and sharp angles. An enigma, wrapped up in allure and charisma, topped off with a nice little bow of capital C complicated. A boy with too expressive eyes but never wore his heart on his sleeve. 

Human or ghost, he was still the same.

She dared to ask anyway, “Was there something you needed to do before you died?” 

Josh pressed his lips together, turning to stare out the window. “I wasn’t even legally old enough to drink when I died. What do you think?” 

She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to answer that. 

When Sam didn’t say anything, he turned back to look at her. “You suck at this ghost whisperer thing.”

Sam gripped the steering wheel. “I am not a ghost whisperer.”

“I’m a ghost and you’re talking to me, ergo, ghost whisperer.”

“Yeah, well, if I suck at being a ghost whisperer, it’s because you’re a crappy ghost.”

He actually looked offended at that. 

“The sooner you fess up about why you’re stuck here, the sooner we can figure this mess we’re in,” Sam said. “Then you can move on, follow the light and leave me alone.” 

His gaze sparked with a mixture of interest and frustration. “Is that what you want? For me to leave?” 

They locked eyes again. Moments passed until Sam blinked and broke the spell. 

She squeezed a firm “_ Yes _,” through her teeth.

“If that’s what you want.”

Sam’s eyes flashed over to him. “It_ is _.” 

Josh leaned closer, a slow grin spreading across his face. Sam stiffened as his words tickled her ear. “You have to mean it.” Then he disappeared. She had only blinked and he was gone before she could say anything else, leaving Sam as confused as ever. 

* * *

If someone would’ve told Sam she would get haunted by the ghost of Josh Washington, much less get used to it, she would’ve laughed like she hadn’t in months.

But life is a funny thing. So of course she ended up stuck with the ghost of an angry boy with whom she once thought had a connection with her. And being haunted by said boy is a part of her reality now. Like the fact that her name’s Sam and she’s tired. 

Sam hates him, and even when she doesn’t, she finds herself wishing he would dissapear and leave her the fuck alone. They still fought, sure, and most of the time their fights led to one of them storming off- which ended up being mostly Josh. But he came back. He always came back.

She was still trying to figure out how to feel about _ that _.

But despite everything, she finds herself breathing a little easier. Relieved that she doesn’t have to hide the ugly, broken parts of her around someone. Even if the someone in question is the most insufferable ghost she has ever met. Not that she would admit that to him.

Ironic, that the one person she wants to forget, the one person she can’t stand, is the one person she doesn’t have to hide from. 

Sam’s still waiting for the punchline. 

* * *

“Forgiveness,” she mumbled, her voice so low, it was almost swallowed by the woman yelling on the TV.

They were in her living room, watching some crappy horror movie Josh had chosen. After much complaining and begging and playing the dead card, she relented with a suffering glare and let him pick the movie. Anything to get him to shut up. But of course, no horror film came without a snotty commentary from Josh Washington. 

She should’ve known better.

Sam had zoned out sometime during his pretentious criticism, too lost in her thoughts to pay any attention, only reacting to the occasional jump scare but with no clue of what was happening in the movie. There was a time when she used to not like them but now she didn’t mind. Not anymore. Not when she knew worse things existed. Scarier things than what any movie could show her. 

Josh was sprawled next to her on the couch, looking exactly like he used to, and for a second she allowed herself to pretend he was actually there with her. Just like before. 

Heartbeats pass and she thinks he didn't hear her, when suddenly Josh teared his eyes from the screen and turned to look at her, frowning. “What?” 

Her one second of playing pretend is over. He’s dead and she’s alive. Nothing would ever be the same again. 

“The reason you’re here, I mean-” her eyes met his, then she glanced away “-maybe it’s because I need to forgive you.” 

Josh stayed silent for a moment, then said, “Guess I’ll be sticking around for a long while then.”

Neither of them said a word for the rest of the movie.

* * *

The flyer was still glaring at her days later.

Sam throws down the towel she was using to dry her brushes. She’s stress cleaning, she knows. Organizing and reorganizing her painting supplies, her shelves, her closet. Anything to keep her mind busy. To keep the demons away. 

Damn Michael Munroe.

Unfortunately for her, Josh was still adamant on his never ending quest of annoying her to death. “And here I was, thinking I was the only one allowed to get you all riled up.”

Sam ignored him. 

“Sammy?” 

Sam quickly glanced over to where she had the flyer pinned. 

“You should do it,” Josh said, no doubt noticing the source of her distress. She hated how easily he could read her. 

“It’s not that simple,” she argued. “How does Mike expect me to help other people when I’m such a mess.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“_ And _ ...” she laughs humorlessly and starts gathering the thoroughly cleaned paintbrushes. “Everybody is moving on with their lives, going back to school, moving out, getting back to normal. While I’m still stuck here, living with my mom who doesn’t know how to talk to me anymore, working a part-time job giving yoga classes to trophy wives, just shy of becoming a self-proclaimed hermit if it weren’t for the fact that I have to deal with _ you- _ ” she points a paintbrush violently at him. “-on a daily basis. In other words, a mess. Still where I was at the beginning of the year, which is nowhere.” She picks a handful of brushes and starts stuffing them into a jar. “And I’m just so” - _ clunk _ \- “tired” - _ clunk _ \- “of” - _ clunk _ \- “being” - _ clunk _ \- “ _ nowhere _. And nobody gets it!” 

“I get it,” he said quietly. Sam stops her furious cleaning to meet his eyes. She hadn’t realized how close he’d gotten. “I know all about being nowhere.”

She knew he wasn’t only talking about his current situation. “I know you do.” 

Hurt. Frustrated. Stuck. Desperate. The same he’s felt since the twins disappeared. 

Reality fell on her like a bucket of cold water. She can’t believe she unloaded on Josh like that. For a moment she’d forgotten that things had changed between them. She had been doing such a good job keeping him at bay, and all of the sudden she’s blabbing about her feelings to him of all people?

Her chest tightened. She needed to keep distance between them. Distance was good. It was safe. It was painless.

She broke his gaze, dismissing him as she placed the jar full of paintbrushes on the shelf. Going about herself like nothing happened, Sam walked to the door, pulling it open. Then Josh was there, behind her. His hand shot forward, slamming the door so hard the knob slipped from her fingers. 

“How do you do that? Act like you don’t care?” If she didn’t know any better, Sam would’ve thought he sounded hurt. 

She rested her forehead against the door. 

Josh didn’t move. “Because I can’t do that.”

Sam twisted around to face him. His arms were braced on either side of her head. His crystalline gaze searching. “Look, I know what we had meant something to you.” 

So much for distance.

“Those feelings are gone,” Sam said. 

Josh scoffed. “And once again she lies.”

Ruffled, despite her every desire not to be, Sam said, “Think whatever you want, Josh. I don’t care.”

Josh bent closer, lowering his face along the curve of her neck. Sam froze, tried not to react. He didn’t touch her- not that she thought he could- but he was just so... _ close _. Close enough for her to feel that faint phantom warmth graze all over her, flooding her. She imagined his mouth parting against her skin, imagined his lips traveling up to her jaw, imagined his eyes fluttering close.

Josh lifted his head to look at her. 

And there it was. That familiar pull of wanting to fall with him, fall into him. Every instinct she had was screaming at her to give in. 

_ It isn’t real. _

But here, beneath the dim lights of her room, enveloped in the feel of him, the sensation, it felt real enough. And Sam wanted nothing more than to believe in it, if only for a moment.

“Are you done invading my personal space?” Thankfully, her voice didn’t come out as shaky as she felt.

“Flustered, Sammy?” The deep tenor of his voice slid over her like molten honey.

“Not at all.” She raised her chin, not looking away, the small space between them alive on her skin.

His gaze flitted across her face, before meeting her eyes. “Does it make it easier for you to hate me? To think I didn’t care?” 

_ Did you? _ she wanted to ask, remembering how he’d manipulated her into convincing the others to go back for the anniversary, and how she’d let herself be used thinking it would help this angry boy move on. Sam focused on the familiar anger, let it wrap around her heart. She had been so stupid. No more. Never again. “When we were together, how much time did you spend thinking about the best way to punish me?” 

Josh looked away, not answering her.

Sam's lips thinned as she nodded her head ruefully. Disappointment swallowed her. Although it didn’t come as a surprise, some small part of her wished it wasn’t. “That’s what I thought.” 

He pushed away from the door. “I don’t want to fight with you, Sammy.”

Too late for that. “Then you should go away.”

* * *

The pitter patter of the rain tapped the window, the downpour outside reflecting the stormy mood that had been surrounding her and Josh since their squabble. They were in her room, Sam sitting cross legged on her bed, all of her attention targeted at the laptop precariously perched on her lap, spending all of her energy on giving Josh the cold shoulder like she had been for days. But try as she might, he made it difficult for her to ignore him. He was always there. Roaming her room, roaming her halls, roaming her head. 

Yeah, his presence was something she was all too aware of.

He kept trying to tell her something she wouldn’t let him say- didn’t want him to say. No, Sam wanted to stay inside her little bubble of anger. Safe. Uncomplicated

Somewhere along the line, Josh had grown annoyed at trying to catch her attention. He never handled being on the receiving end of the silent treatment very well. But there was something else happening with him. From the increasing amount of broken light bulbs, and things falling off from the shelves, it was obvious something was wrong. This wasn’t some ghost nonsense- no, it was _ him _. Something must be really bothering Josh to let his temper show this much. 

It made her wonder if he, too, felt suffocated by his own memories of that night. 

Her gaze flickered to him, studying the ghost lounging in her room. All of his concentration was latched onto the pencil he was hovering, trying to draw on one of the notebooks she had left lying around on her desk. 

She traced the lines of his face. The angles were sharper than she remembered, his golden skin a bit more pale. But it was still the same mouth. The same eyes. So familiar yet foreign.

It didn’t make sense. How her mind saw him as a stranger but for her heart to know him. He had lied to her. He had lied about so many things and she had believed him. 

“What do you want?” Sam snapped all out of the sudden that it took a moment for Josh to realize she was talking to him. 

He straightened, the pencil he was hovering clattering to the ground when his focus shifted to her. “I’m just trying to brush up on my artistic skills, Sammy.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” She scowled, discarding her laptop to the side as she stood and walked over to him. “Isn’t there somebody else you can haunt? Somebody with stuff to knock off shelves and with notebooks to defile.” She snapped the notebook he was drawing on shut, leaving his crude drawing unfinished. “Literally _ anybody else _ you can annoy.” 

“You’re the only one that can see me,” he said, the words tinged with a mixture of amusement and annoyance. As if that were the only logical explanation.

There was nothing logical about this.

“What do you want from me?” 

“What I want…” he muttered, his lips curling into a sardonic smile. He crossed his arms. “What makes you think I want something from _ you _?”

“I’m the one you’re haunting.” Sam stalked a few steps away. “You tell me.”

Between heartbeats, Josh dematerialized and materialized in front of her, frustration clear on his face. “Why do you insist on pushing me away?”

“Why do you insist on staying?” she countered. 

“You don’t have to go through this alone, you know. If you could just let me-”

“_ No _ . I am not doing this again. Not with you,” she said firmly. “Look Josh, I don’t know what twisted protector fantasy this _ is _ but I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself.”

“You sure about that?”

With a straight face, she said, “Absofuckinglutely”

Jost stepped closer and growled, “You are the most stubborn-”

“Oh, _ I’m _ stubborn?” Sam snapped, incredulous. “ _ Me _?”

“As. A. Mule.” 

“Because I don’t want you here? That makes me stubborn?”

His face was now inches from hers but Sam didn’t back down. A humorless grin tipped the corner of his mouth. “Absofuckinglutely.”

Bastard. 

“I don’t need your help. I am doing perfectly fine on my own”

“Doesn’t look like that to me.” 

Sam gave him a flat stare. “Right because you are the _ epitome _ of mental health, Josh. After having a psychotic breakdown and creating an elaborate prank to traumatize your friends. Not to mention you died at the hands of a cannibalistic monster and that your ghost is now stranded.” A low blow but she couldn't bring herself to care. 

Josh's eyes darkened, but other than that he remained unruffled. “I’m dealing with it,” he merely said.

Sam recalled the shards of glass on the floor when she entered her room after her shower. “Right and I have a broken lamp to prove it.” She narrowed her eyes and tilted her head slightly. “How are you planning on helping me ‘deal’ with my trauma if you can’t even help yourself?”

“So you admit that you’re traumatized?”

A challenge.

Sam scoffed. “What I’m saying is that you are the least qualified person to help me. I would know- I read your psychiatric report.”

The words tumbling out of her mouth are vicious, defensive. She should probably be horrified but between the too many hours of existing that had caught up with her and the soreness of a mind that was too tired of thinking, she just didn’t care. 

Josh's gaze raked over her again, making her feel like he could see underneath her skin, all the way to her weary soul. “You wanna know what I think, Sammy?”

_ No _ . _ But I have a feeling you’re about to tell me anyway. _

“You’re not angry because you don’t want me to be here. You’re angry because you _ do _.”

For a fleeting moment Sam wished she had a bucket full of red paint to splatter over every surface. Intense, vivid, bright _ red _. Like the flames that licked her back when the Lodge exploded. Like the fury and resentment that had been simmering inside her for almost a year. Like the way some distant part of her heart still bled and ached for him. 

Ignoring the sudden tightness of her throat, she pushed, “After everything that happened, I think we can agree that I owe you nothing and that you owe me nothing.” She shook her head, as if she could shake the memories of what had occurred on Blackwood. “Isn’t it enough that we’re all miserable? You got what you wanted in the end. Everyone paid for what happened to the girls- including_ you.” _

“Got what I _ wanted _?” Josh asked, his face growing tight. “You still think I’m a monster, even after everything.” 

_ No. _

Sam wished she did. Because to think he was would make things so much easier. Blaming Josh for everything- for all her anger, her guilt, her grief- was much less complicated than facing reality. But it didn’t hurt any less. 

It wasn’t a question but she’s too angry, too resentful and wants him to hurt too. So Sam answered anyways, “I think you’re a _ liar _.”

She felt him leave. Felt as his essence drained from the room, leaving a stilled coldness in its wake. Before he vanished completely, he brushed past her, whispering into her ear, “I _ never _ wanted this.” 

Then he was gone.

* * *

Sam had never been one to keep a diary like Hannah. But after the twins disappeared- when she still had the hope that they would return home- Sam had gone out of her way to get one and write everything down, so when they came back it would be like they hadn’t missed anything. Now it was just a habit. Something besides her art to get everything out, all of her thoughts and feelings, writing it all down into a little book that she hides in her nightstand.

Right now the words _ Dear Diary _ stared accusingly at her, her mind a mess of thoughts and yet blank as the empty page in front of her.

She didn’t know what to think anymore. Why? Why was this happening to her? All she wanted was to leave what happened at Blackwood Pines behind her. A hideous souvenir to stuff into a drawer, never to look at or think of again. 

But still: the hollow darkness inside her. Still: the constant remembrance. 

Her hand absently went to the chain around her neck. Josh’s presence wasn’t making things any easier. How could she mourn someone who wasn’t completely gone?

His wretched words echoed through her mind.

_ I never wanted this. _

She couldn’t stop thinking about the haunted look on his face, the angry twist of his mouth, his tortured eyes. Sam realizes that her anger might not be entirely rational. But it didn’t stop her from feeling it.

It scared her more that, since Josh came back into her life, he actually looked like a ghost.

* * *

The lingering tension of their argument followed her to bed that night. She had gone too far this time. Her anger had dwindled and fizzled out sometime ago, leaving her with the cold, hard truth. She didn’t hate Josh. As much as she tried for so long, so hard, she can’t hate him. And it made her feel worse.

“Josh,” she whispered, her eyes seeking him out in the shadows, only to be met by silence.

“Josh,” she tried again but there was no answer. 

Sam rolled to her side and closed her eyes. Trying to keep her breathing steady, trying to get her tense body to relax. She barely remembered drifting off when a familiar texture slid over her skin. Warm. Scintillating. 

“I know what I did was wrong.” His voice came through the dark, traveling up her back as he spoke quietly into the darkness of the room. “And I’ll be apologizing for the rest of my existence, believe me, but I’m sorry.”

She stays silent, still keeps her back to him.

“I am,” Josh goes on, the words stronger this time, more sure. “For what I did to you in Blackwood. For not talking to you. For feeling like I needed to shield you from what I was going through.” 

Slowly, she turned, looking over at him sitting on the floor underneath her window, one leg bent with his arm thrown over it, his head against the wall, staring at her. They watched each other for a long moment, both of them silent. Despite the darkness drenching her room, he was visible to her, probably because he was incorporeal or some other perk of being a ghost.

Sam buried herself into her comforter. “I don’t know why you felt like you needed to hide that part of yourself from me. I could’ve handled it, Josh.”

“I know,” he said. “I know you could’ve.”

Silence.

Josh spoke again. “You don’t understand how amazing it is to finally talk to you. I’m all by myself here. I don’t have anyone. I-” He stopped himself, shaking his head. 

Softly, she said, “What I said before, about all of this being your fault, it was harsh.” A pause. “I don’t think you’re a monster.”

“You had every right- you have every right to hate me for what I did to you”

“It’s not your fault your parents bought a cursed mountain.”

A bitter smile. “No, but it was me who lured everyone back up there.”

“You were sick, Josh. And _ we _ should’ve known better. _ I _ should’ve known better.” She closes her eyes, the memories squeezing her chest, her heart. When she opens them again, she isn’t surprised to find him still looking at her. 

Friend, deceiver, tormentor.

He read her silence. “All I can do is say I’m sorry and hope that you’ll forgive me one day.”

It doesn’t take back what he did. It doesn’t fix all the damage that had been done to her. To him. To all of them. She wished the words would make her want to instantly forgive him but it’s not that easy. That damage will always stay with her, follow her as much as she doesn't want it to. Anyways, Sam didn’t think she was ready for that. Not yet, at least. But… she was tired of being on her guard all the time, sick of all the fighting and the arguing. She missed the times when they would just talk, about whatever, whenever. When did everything get so fucked up? 

“Are you going to be okay?” Josh murmured.

Sam looked at him and wondered what he saw in her that had hope in his expression. “Ask me tomorrow,” she said. 

Josh smiled. 


End file.
